melted glacial fingers existed at every turn, highlighting barren rock and soil. As the sun climbed into the sky, Lugh inexorably led the group farther into the wilds of the Snowdon, and Kegan, one horse heavy, watched the rear with Deirdre and Snedeker. No one spoke. The only sound was the clop of the Rhedewyr as they gained the heights. Richard found himself using the time to form the argument he would need to convince Lord Fafnir and Lord Latobius to join the Seelie Court once more.
“Who are the coblynau?” Bran asked Deirdre, who rode just behind him.
“Mountain dwellers, miners of wealth,” she answered. “They are a bit taller than clurichauns and are broader through the chest and arms. Few have visited Mochdrev Reach in my lifetime or Arendig Fawr from what I understand. They tend to keep to themselves.”
“They sound like dwarves to me.”
“I do not know that word,” Kegan said with a frown.
“A fairy tale creature, always mentioned with elves and orcs and trolls in our world,” Bran said. “Why are the coblynau necessary? No offense, but men of short stature have a harder time reaching their enemies.”
“We are good fighters, Bran,” Kegan snickered, the darkness in his eyes leaving for a moment of mirth. He patted the knives belted at his side. “The coblynau are excellent fighters. With maces and axes, they can decimate enemies as a warm knife cuts through cream. Being in the dark depths, they work hard to bring the ores and jewels of the mountain depths to Annwn. Moving all that rock and equipment builds strong statures, no matter the size. They might not be able to run very fast, but put an armed line of them together and they are nigh unstoppable.”
“Not to mention we need their iron,” Richard interjected.
“Why is that?” Bran asked. “Govannon requires it if we are to be equipped properly for war.”
“I had always thought the fey hated iron or steel.”
“Ha!” Lugh laughed. “We are not the Unseelie Court. Those of the shadows hate it.”
Richard shook his head. The boy had a lot to learn about Annwn.
“No, we need the coblynau,” Kegan continued. “The magic of the Mastersmith may be able to produce countless weapons and armor in quickened fashion, but he still needs the ore of the mountain to outfit the army we will need to defeat Caer Llion.”
“Why can’t the coblynau see they are needed for this war?” Bran asked.
“Lord Fafnir,” Kegan snorted. “He is very old—one of the eldest of the lords, set in his ways, a curmudgeon who thinks nothing outside his mountain. They trade when they have need but beyond that they prefer not to be seen.”
“How will we even gain an audience with him?” Lugh asked, pressing his previous point. “If Lord Fafnir can defy the Queen, how?”
“A knight is a powerful ally,” Kegan said. “The two knights both will intrigue Lord Fafnir. He has always been infatuated in the mysterious and unattainable. The perfect gem. The perfect gwyddbwyll game. The perfect meal. Bran and Richard are different and Lord Fafnir will be intrigued by that.”
“Also,” Richard added. “I possess Arondight.”
“True,” Kegan said. “Lord Fafnir owes fealty to the blade.”
“I guess I just don’t understand why this Fafnir believes he is safe,” Bran said.
“Do you think an army can plod this trail?” Richard grunted. “That’s why he is unwilling to get involved. He believes he is safe, no matter the size of the force against him. In a way, he protects his people because to send them from the Snowdon would lead to their deaths. But he is shortsighted. There will come a time when Caer Llion sends the Templar Knights and whatever else he has bred into these mountains. The warriors of Lord Fafnir will not be able to resist that kind of force. The last of the Tuatha de Dannan will be destroyed.”
“Indeed,” Kegan said.
“In our world, there are several leaders who shirk any responsibility when disputes arise,” Bran offered. “They believe it wise to not take sides in war.”
“Wisdom has nothing to do with position,” Richard noted.
Noon became afternoon, the air lukewarm with a hint of fall that would never come. In the distance, glacial snowfields blinded the company, the remnants of a long-lost winter slowly shrinking into pockets of memory.
Arrow Jack landed on a dwarf pine nearby and screeched.
“We are close to the entrance,” Lugh notified Richard.
The trail took a sharp turn upward through a copse of disfigured, wind-blown pine and fir trees into a landscape strewn with